“fra gli odoriferi ginepri,”
to gather the flowers I have just mentioned, and found them deliciously
scented. Fratillarias, and the most gorgeous flies, many of which I here
noticed for the first time, were fluttering about and expanding their
wings to the sun. There is no describing the numbers I beheld, nor their
gaily varied colouring. I could not find in my heart to destroy their
felicity; to scatter their bright plumage and snatch them for ever from
the realms of light and flowers. Had I been less compassionate, I should
have gained credit with that respectable corps, the torturers of
butterflies; and might, perhaps, have enriched their cabinets with some
unknown captives. However, I left them imbibing the dews of heaven, in
free possession of their native rights; and having changed horses at
Tremolano, entered at length my long-desired Italy.
The pass is rocky and tremendous, guarded by a fortress (Covalo), in
possession of the Empress Queen, and only fit, one should think, to be
inhabited by her eagles. There is no attaining this exalted hold but by
the means of a cord let down many fathoms by the soldiers, who live in
dens and caverns, which serve also as arsenals, and magazines for powder;
whose mysteries I declined prying into, their approach being a little too
aërial for my earthly frame. A black vapour, tinging their entrance,
completed the terror of the prospect, which I shall never forget.
For two or three leagues it continued much in the same style; cliffs,
nearly perpendicular, on both sides, and the Brenta foaming and
thundering below. Beyond, the rocks began to be mantled with vines and
gardens. Here and there a cottage shaded with mulberries made its
appearance, and we often discovered, on the banks of the river, ranges of
white buildings, with courts and awnings, beneath which vast numbers were
employed in manufacturing silk. As we advanced, the stream gradually
widened, and the rocks receded; woods were more frequent and cottages
thicker strown.
About five in the evening, we had left the country of crags and
precipices, of mists and cataracts, and were entering the fertile
territory of the Bassanese. It was now I beheld groves of olives, and
vines clustering the summits of the tallest elms; pomegranates in every
garden, and vases of citron and orange before almost every door. The
softness and transparency of the air soon told me I was arrived in
happier climates; and I felt sensations of joy and novelty run through my
veins, upon beholding this smiling land of groves and verdure stretched
out before me. A few glooming vapours, I can hardly call them clouds,
rested upon the extremities of the landscape; and, through their medium,
the sun cast an oblique and dewy ray. Peasants were returning homeward
from the cultivated hillocks and corn-fields, singing as they went, and
calling to each other over the hills; whilst the women were milking goats
before the wickets of the cottages, and preparing their country fare.
I left them enjoying it, and soon beheld the ancient ramparts and
cypresses of Bassano; whose classic appearance recalled the memory of
former times, and answered exactly the ideas I had pictured to myself of
Italian edifices. Though encompassed by walls and turrets, neither
soldiers nor custom-house officers start out from their concealment, to
question and molest a weary traveller, for such are the blessings of the
Venetian State, at least of the Terra Firma provinces, that it does not
contain, I believe, above four regiments. Istria, Dalmatia, and the
maritime frontiers, are more formidably guarded, as they touch, you know,
the whiskers of the Turkish empire.
Passing under a Doric gateway, we crossed the chief part of the town in
the way to our locanda, pleasantly situated, and commanding a level
green, where people walk and eat ices by moonlight. On the right, the
Franciscan church and convent, half hid in the religious gloom of pine
and cypress; to the left, a perspective of walls and towers rising from
the turf, and marking it, when I arrived, with long shadows; in front,
where the lawn terminates, meadow, wood, and garden run quite to the base
of the mountains.
Twilight coming on, this beautiful spot swarmed with people, sitting in
circles upon the grass, refreshing themselves with cooling liquors or
lounging upon the bank beneath the towers. They looked so free and happy
that I longed to be acquainted with them; and by the interposition of a
polite Venetian (who, though a perfect stranger, showed me the most
engaging marks of attention), was introduced to a group of the principal
inhabitants. Our conversation ended in a promise to meet the next
evening at a country house about a league from Bassano, and then to
return together and sing to the praise of Pacchierotti, their idol, as
well as mine.
You can have no idea what pleasure we mutually found in being of the same
faith, and believing in one singer; nor can you imagine what effects that
musical divinity produced at Padua, where he performed a few years ago,
and threw his audience into such raptures, that it was some time before
they recovered. One in particular, a lady of distinction, fainted away
the instant she caught the pathetic accents of his voice, and was near
dying a martyr to its melody. La Contessa Roberti, who sings in the
truest taste, gave me a detail of the whole affair. “Egli ha fatto
veramente un fanatismo a Padua,” was her expression. I assured her we
were not without idolatry in England, upon his account; but that in this,
as well as in other articles of belief, there were many abominable
heretics.
_August_ 1_st_.—The whole morning not a soul stirred who could avoid it.
Those who were so active and lively the night before, were now stretched
languidly upon their couches. Being to the full as idly disposed, I sat
down and wrote some of this dreaming epistle; then feasted upon figs and
melons; then got under the shade of the cypress, and slumbered till
evening, only waking to dine, and take some ice.
The sun declining apace, I hastened to my engagement at Mosolente (for so
is the villa called), placed on a verdant hill encircled by others as
lovely, and consisting of three light pavilions connected by porticos:
just such as we admire in the fairy scenes of an opera. A vast flight of
steps leads to the summit, where Signora Roberti and her friends received
me with a grace and politeness that can never want a place in my memory.
We rambled over all the apartments of this agreeable edifice,
characterised by airiness and simplicity. The pavement incrusted with a
composition as cool and polished as marble; the windows, doors, and
balconies adorned with silvered, iron work, commanding scenes of meads
and woodlands that extend to the shores of the Adriatic; spires and
cypresses rising above the levels; and the hazy mountains beyond Padua,
diversifying the expanse, form altogether a landscape which the elegant
imagination of Horizonti never exceeded. Beyond the villa, a tumble of
hillocks present themselves in a variety of forms, with dips and hollows
between, scattered over with leafy trees and vines dangling in continued
garlands.
I gazed on this rural view till it faded in the dusk; then returning to
Bassano, repaired to an illuminated hall, and had the felicity of hearing
La Signora Roberti sing the very air which had excited such transport at
Padua. As soon as she had ended, and that I could hear no more those
affecting sounds, which had held me silent and almost breathless for
several moments, a band of various instruments stationed in the open
street began a lively symphony, which would have delighted me at any
other time; but now, I wished them a thousand leagues away, so melancholy
an impression did the air I had been listening to leave on my mind.
At midnight I took leave of my obliging hosts, who were just setting out
for Padua. They gave me a thousand kind invitations, and I hope some
future day to accept them.
_August_ 2_nd_.—Our route to Venice lay winding about the variegated
plains I had surveyed from Mosolente; and after dining at Treviso we came
in two hours and a half to Mestre, between grand villas and gardens
peopled with statues. Embarking our baggage at the last-mentioned place,
we stepped into a gondola, whose even motion was very agreeable after the
jolts of a chaise. Stretched beneath the awning, I enjoyed at my ease
the freshness of the gales, and the sight of the waters. We were soon
out of the canal of Mestre, terminated by an isle which contains a cell
dedicated to the Holy Virgin, peeping out of a thicket from whence spire
up two tall cypresses. Its bells tingled as we passed along and dropped
some paolis into a net tied at the end of a pole stretched out to us for
that purpose.
As soon as we had doubled the cape of this diminutive island, an azure
expanse of sea opened to our view, the domes and towers of Venice rising
from its bosom. Now we began to distinguish Murano, St. Michele, St.
Giorgio in Alga, and several other islands, detached from the grand
cluster, which I hailed as old acquaintances; innumerable prints and
drawings having long since made their shapes familiar. Still gliding
forward, the sun casting his last gleams across the waves, and reddening
the different towers, we every moment distinguished some new church or
palace in the city, suffused with the evening rays, and reflected with
all their glow of colouring from the surface of the waters.
The air was still; the sky cloudless; a faint wind just breathing upon
the deep, lightly bore its surface against the steps of a chapel in the
island of Saint Secondo, and waved the veil before its portal, as we
rowed by and coasted the walls of its garden, overhung with fig-trees and
topped with Italian pines. The convent discovers itself through their
branches, built in a style somewhat morisco, and level with the sea,
except where the garden intervenes.
Here, meditation may indulge her reveries in the midst of the surges, and
walk in cloisters, alone vocal with the whispers of the pine. I passed
this consecrated spot soon after sunset, when daylight was expiring in
the west, and when the distant woods of Fusina were lost in the haze of
the horizon.
We were now drawing very near the city, and a confused hum began to
interrupt the evening stillness; gondolas were continually passing and
repassing, and the entrance of the Canal Reggio, with all its stir and
bustle, lay before us. Our gondoliers turned with much address through a
crowd of boats and barges that blocked up the way, and rowed smoothly by
the side of a broad pavement, covered with people in all dresses and of
all nations.
Leaving the Palazzo Pesaro, a noble structure with two rows of arcades
and a superb rustic, behind, we were soon landed before the Leon Bianco,
which being situated in one of the broadest parts of the grand canal,
commands a most striking assemblage of buildings. I have no terms to
describe the variety of pillars, of pediments, of mouldings, and
cornices, some Grecian, others Saracenical, that adorn these edifices, of
which the pencil of Canaletti conveys so perfect an idea as to render all
verbal description superfluous. At one end of this grand perspective
appears the Rialto; the sweep of the canal conceals the other.
The rooms of our hotel are as spacious and cheerful as I could desire; a
lofty hall, or rather gallery, painted with grotesque in a very good
style, perfectly clean, floored with the stucco composition I have
mentioned above, divides the house, and admits a refreshing current of
air. Several windows near the ceiling look into this vast apartment,
which serves in lieu of a court, and is rendered perfectly luminous by a
glazed arcade, thrown open to catch the breezes. Through it I passed to
a balcony which impends over the canal, and is twined round with plants
forming a green festoon springing from two large vases of orange-trees
placed at each end. Here I established myself to enjoy the cool, and
observe, as well as the dusk would permit, the variety of figures
shooting by in their gondolas.
As night approached, innumerable tapers glimmered through the awnings
before the windows. Every boat had its lantern, and the gondolas moving
rapidly along were followed by tracks of light, which gleamed and played
upon the waters. I was gazing at these dancing fires when the sounds of
music were wafted along the canals, and as they grew louder and louder,
an illuminated barge, filled with musicians, issued from the Rialto, and
stopping under one of the palaces, began a serenade, which was clamorous
and suspended all conversation in the galleries and porticos; till,
rowing slowly away, it was heard no more. The gondoliers catching the
air, imitated its cadences, and were answered by others at a distance,
whose voices, echoed by the arch of the bridge, acquired a plaintive and
interesting tone. I retired to rest, full of the sound; and long after I
was asleep, the melody seemed to vibrate in my ear.
_August_ 3_rd_.—It was not five o’clock before I was aroused by a loud
din of voices and splashing of water under my balcony. Looking out, I
beheld the grand canal so entirely covered with fruits and vegetables, on
rafts and in barges, that I could scarcely distinguish a wave. Loads of
grapes, peaches, and melons arrived, and disappeared in an instant, for
every vessel was in motion; and the crowds of purchasers hurrying from
boat to boat, formed one of the liveliest pictures imaginable. Amongst
the multitudes, I remarked a good many whose dress and carriage announced
something above the common rank; and upon inquiry I found they were noble
Venetians, just come from their casinos, and met to refresh themselves
with fruit, before they retired to sleep for the day.
Whilst I was observing them, the sun began to colour the balustrades of
the palaces, and the pure exhilarating air of the morning drawing me
abroad, I procured a gondola, laid in my provision of bread and grapes,
and was rowed under the Rialto, down the grand canal, to the marble steps
of S. Maria della Salute, erected by the Senate in performance of a vow
to the Holy Virgin, who begged off a terrible pestilence in 1630. I
gazed, delighted with its superb frontispiece and dome, relieved by a
clear blue sky. To criticize columns or pediments of the different
façades, would be time lost; since one glance upon the worst view that
has been taken of them, conveys a far better idea than the most elaborate
description. The great bronze portal opened whilst I was standing on the
steps which lead to it, and discovered the interior of the dome, where I
expatiated in solitude; no mortal appearing except an old priest who
trimmed the lamps, and muttered a prayer before the high altar, still
wrapped in shadows. The sunbeams began to strike against the windows of
the cupola just as I left the church, and was wafted across the waves to
the spacious platform in front of St. Giorgio Maggiore, by far the most
perfect and beautiful edifice my eyes ever beheld.
When my first transport was a little subsided, and I had examined the
graceful design of each particular ornament, and united the just
proportion and grand effect of the whole in my mind, I planted my
umbrella on the margin of the sea, and reclining under its shade, my feet
dangling over the waters, viewed the vast range of palaces, of porticos,
of towers, opening on every side and extending out of sight. The Doge’s
residence and the tall columns at the entrance of the place of St. Mark,
form, together with the arcades of the public library, the lofty
Campanile and the cupolas of the ducal church, one of the most striking
groups of buildings that art can boast of. To behold at one glance these
stately fabrics, so illustrious in the records of former ages, before
which, in the flourishing times of the republic, so many valiant chiefs
and princes have landed, loaded with the spoils of different nations, was
a spectacle I had long and ardently desired. I thought of the days of
Frederic Barbarossa, when looking up the piazza of St. Mark, along which
he marched in solemn procession, to cast himself at the feet of Alexander
the Third, and pay a tardy homage to St. Peter’s successor. Here were no
longer those splendid fleets that attended his progress; one solitary
galeass was all I beheld, anchored opposite the palace of the Doge, and
surrounded by crowds of gondolas, whose sable hues contrasted strongly
with its vermilion oars and shining ornaments. A party-coloured
multitude was continually shifting from one side of the piazza to the
other; whilst senators and magistrates in long black robes were already
arriving to fill their respective charges.
I contemplated the busy scene from my peaceful platform, where nothing
stirred but aged devotees creeping to their devotions; and, whilst I
remained thus calm and tranquil, heard the distant buzz and rumour of the
town. Fortunately a length of waves rolled between me and its tumults;
so that I ate my grapes, and read Metastasio, undisturbed by
officiousness or curiosity. When the sun became too powerful, I entered
the nave, and applauded the genius of Palladio.
After I had admired the masterly structure of the roof and the lightness
of its arches, my eyes naturally directed themselves to the pavement of
white and ruddy marble, polished, and reflecting like a mirror the
columns which rise from it. Over this I walked to a door that admitted
me into the principal quadrangle of the convent, surrounded by a cloister
supported on Ionic pillars, beautifully proportioned. A flight of stairs
opens into the court, adorned with balustrades and pedestals, sculptured
with elegance truly Grecian. This brought me to the refectory, where the
chef-d’œuvre of Paul Veronese, representing the marriage of Cana in
Galilee, was the first object that presented itself. I never beheld so
gorgeous a group of wedding garments before; there is every variety of
fold and plait that can possibly be imagined. The attitudes and
countenances are more uniform, and the guests appear a very genteel,
decent sort of people, well used to the mode of their times and
accustomed to miracles.
Having examined this fictitious repast, I cast a look on a long range of
tables covered with very excellent realities, which the monks were coming
to devour with energy, if one might judge from their appearance. These
sons of penitence and mortification possess one of the most spacious
islands of the whole cluster, a princely habitation, with gardens and
open porticos, that engross every breath of air; and, what adds not a
little to the charms of their abode, is the liberty of making excursions
from it, whenever they have a mind.
The republic, wisely jealous of ecclesiastical influence, connives at
these amusing rambles, and, by encouraging the liberty of monks and
churchmen, prevents their appearing too sacred and important in the eyes
of the people, who have frequent proofs of their being mere flesh and
blood, and that of the frailest composition. Had the rest of Italy been
of the same opinion, and profited as much by Fra Paolo’s maxims, some of
its fairest fields would not, at this moment, lie uncultivated, and its
ancient spirit might have revived. However, I can scarcely think the
moment far distant, when it will assert its natural prerogatives, awake
from its ignoble slumber, and look back upon the tiara, with all its host
of idle fears and scaring phantoms, as the offspring of a distempered
dream. Scarce a sovereign supports any longer this vain illusion, except
the old woman of Hungary, and as soon as her dim eyes are closed we shall
probably witness great events. {156}
Full of prophecies and bodings, I moved slowly out of the cloisters; and,
gaining my gondola, arrived, I know not how, at the flights of steps
which lead to the Redenptore, a structure so simple and elegant, that I
thought myself entering an antique temple, and looked about for the
statue of the God of Delphi, or some other graceful divinity. A huge
crucifix of bronze soon brought me to times present.
The charm being thus dissolved, I began to perceive the shapes of rueful
martyrs peeping out of the niches around, and the bushy beards of
Capuchin friars wagging before the altars. These good fathers had
decorated their church, according to custom, with orange and citron
trees, placed between the pilasters of the arcades; and on grand
festivals, it seems, they turn the whole church into a bower, strew the
pavement with leaves, and festoon the dome with flowers.
I left them occupied with their plants and their devotions. It was
midday, and I begged to be rowed to some woody island, where I might dine
in shade and tranquillity. My gondoliers shot off in an instant; but,
though they went at a very rapid rate, I wished to fly faster, and
getting into a bark with six oars, swept along the waters, soon left the
Zecca and San Marco behind; and, launching into the plains of shining
sea, saw turret after turret, and isle after isle, fleeting before me. A
pale greenish light ran along the shores of the distant continent, whose
mountains seemed to catch the motion of my boat, and to fly with equal
celerity.
I had not much time to contemplate the beautiful effects on the
waters—the emerald and purple hues which gleamed along their surface.
Our prow struck, foaming, against the walls of the Carthusian garden,
before I recollected where I was, or could look attentively around me.
Permission being obtained, I entered this cool retirement, and putting
aside with my hands the boughs of fig-trees and pomegranates, got under
an ancient bay, near which several tall pines lift themselves up to the
breezes. I listened to the conversation they held, with a wind just
flown from Greece, and charged, as well as I could understand this airy
language, with many affectionate remembrances from their relations on
Mount Ida.
I reposed amidst bay leaves, fanned by a constant air, till it pleased
the fathers to send me some provisions, with a basket of fruit and wine.
Two of them would wait upon me, and ask ten thousand questions about Lord
George Gordon, and the American war. I, who was deeply engaged with the
winds, and fancied myself hearing these rapid travellers relate their
adventures, wished my interrogators in purgatory, and pleaded ignorance
of the Italian language. This circumstance extricated me from my
difficulties, and procured me a long interval of repose.
The rustling of the pines had the same effect as the murmurs of other old
story-tellers, and I slept undisturbed till the people without, in the
boat (who wondered not a little, I dare say, what the deuce was become of
me within), began a sort of chorus in parts, full of such plaintive
modulation, that I still thought myself under the influence of a dream,
and, half in this world and half in the other, believed, like the heroes
of Fingal, that I had caught the music of the spirits of the hill.
When I was thoroughly convinced of the reality of these sounds, I moved
towards the shore from whence they proceeded: a glassy sea lay full
before me; no gale ruffled the expanse; every breath was subsided, and I
beheld the sun go down in all its sacred calm. You have experienced the
sensations this moment inspires; imagine what they must have been in such
a scene, and accompanied with a melody so simple and pathetic. I stepped
into my boat, and instead of encouraging the speed of the gondoliers,
begged them to abate their ardour, and row me lazily home. They
complied, and we were near an hour reaching the platform before the ducal
palace, thronged as usual with a variety of nations. I mixed a moment
with the crowd; then directed my steps to the great mosque,—I ought to
say the church of St. Mark; but really its cupolas, slender pinnacles,
and semicircular arches, have so oriental an appearance, as to excuse
this appellation. I looked a moment at the four stately coursers of
bronze and gold that adorn the chief portal, and then took in, at one
glance, the whole extent of the square, with its towers and standards.
So noble an assemblage never met my eyes. I envied the good fortune of
Petrarch, who describes, in one of his letters, a tournament held in this
princely opening.
Many are the festivals which have been here celebrated. When Henry the
Third left Poland to mount the throne of France, he passed through
Venice, and found the republic waiting to receive him in their famous
square, which by means of an awning stretched from the balustrades of
opposite palaces, was metamorphosed into a vast saloon, sparkling with
artificial stars, and spread with the richest carpets of the East. What
a magnificent idea! The ancient Romans, in the zenith of power and
luxury, never conceived a greater. It is to them the Venetians are
indebted for the hint, since we read of the Coliseo and Pompey’s theatre
being sometimes covered with transparent canvas, to defend the spectators
from the heat or sudden rain, and to tint the scene with soft agreeable
colours, like the hues of the declining sun.
Having enjoyed the general perspective of the piazza, I began to enter
into particulars, and examine the bronze pedestals of the three standards
before the great church, designed by Sansovino in the true spirit of the
antique, and covered with relievos, at the same time bold and elegant.
It is also to this celebrated architect we are indebted for the stately
façade of the Proccuratie nuove, which forms one side of the square, and
presents an uninterrupted series of arcades and marble columns
exquisitely wrought. Opposite this magnificent range appears another
line of palaces, whose architecture, though far removed from the Grecian
purity of Sansovino, impresses veneration, and completes the pomp of the
view.
[Picture: Grand Canal, Venice]
There is something strange and singular in the tower, which rises
distinct from the smooth pavement of the square, a little to the left as
you stand before the chief entrance of St. Mark’s. The design is rather
barbarous, and terminates in uncouth and heavy pyramids; yet in spite of
these defects it struck me with awe. A beautiful building called the
Loggetta, and which serves as a guard-house during the convocation of the
grand council, decorates its base. Nothing can be more enriched, more
finished than this structure; which, though far from diminutive, is in a
manner lost at the foot of the Campanile. This enormous mass seems to
promise a very long duration, and will probably carry down the fame of
St. Mark and his Lion to the latest posterity. Both appear in great
state towards its summit, and have nothing superior, but an archangel
perched on the topmost pinnacle, and pointing to the skies. The dusk
prevented my remarking the various sculptures with which the Loggetta is
crowded.
Crossing the ample space between this elegant edifice and the ducal
palace, I passed through a labyrinth of pillars and entered the principal
court, of which nothing but the great outline was visible at so late an
hour. Two reservoirs of bronze, rich with sculptured foliage, diversify
the area. In front a magnificent flight of steps presents itself, by
which the senators ascend through vast and solemn corridors, which lead
to the interior of the edifice. The colossal statues of Mars and Neptune
guard the entrance, and have given the appellation of _scala dei geganti_
to the steps below, which I mounted not without respect; and, leaning
against the balustrades, formed like the rest of the building of the
rarest marbles, adored the tutelary divinities.
My devotions were shortly interrupted by one of the sbirri, or officers
of police, who take their stands after sunset before the avenues of the
palace, and who told me the gates were upon the point of being closed.
So, hurrying down the steps, I left half my vows unpaid and a million of
delicate sculptures unexplored; for every pilaster, every frieze, every
entablature, is incrusted with porphyry, verde antique, or some other
curious marble, carved into as many grotesque wreaths and mouldings as we
admire in the loggios of Raffaello. The various portals, the strange
projections, the length of cloisters; in short, the noble irregularity of
these imperial piles, delighted me beyond idea; and I was sorry to be
forced to abandon them so soon, especially as the twilight, which bats
and owls love not better than I do, enlarged every portico, lengthened
every colonnade, and increased the dimensions of the whole, just as
imagination desired. This faculty would have had full scope had I but
remained an hour longer. The moon would then have gleamed upon the
gigantic forms of Mars and Neptune, and discovered the statues of ancient
heroes emerging from the gloom of their niches.
Such an interesting assemblage of objects, such regal scenery, with the
reflection that half their ornaments once contributed to the decoration
of Athens, transported me beyond myself. The sbirri thought me
distracted. True enough, I was stalking proudly about like an actor in
an ancient Grecian tragedy, lifting up his hands to the consecrated fanes
and images around, expecting the reply of his attendant chorus, and
declaiming the first verses of Œdipus Tyrannus.
These fits of enthusiasm were hardly subsided, when I issued from the
gates of the palace into the great square, which received a faint gleam
from its casinos and palaces, just beginning to be lighted up, and become
the resort of pleasure and dissipation. Numbers were walking in parties
upon the pavement; some sought the shade of the porticos with their
favourites; others were earnestly engaged in conversation, and filled the
gay illuminated apartments, where they resorted to drink coffee and
sorbet, with laughter and merriment. A thoughtless giddy transport
prevailed; for, at this hour, anything like restraint seems perfectly out
of the question; and however solemn a magistrate or senator may appear in
the day, at night he lays up wig and robe and gravity to sleep together,
runs intriguing about in his gondola, takes the reigning sultana under
his arm, and so rambles half over the town, which grows gayer and gayer
as the day declines.
Many of the noble Venetians have a little suite of apartments in some
out-of-the-way corner, near the grand piazza, of which their families are
totally ignorant. To these they skulk in the dusk, and revel undisturbed
with the companions of their pleasures. Jealousy itself cannot discover
the alleys, the winding passages, the unsuspected doors, by which these
retreats are accessible. Many an unhappy lover, whose mistress
disappears on a sudden with some fortunate rival, has searched for her
haunts in vain. The gondoliers themselves, though the prime managers of
intrigue, are scarce ever acquainted with these interior cabinets. When
a gallant has a mind to pursue his adventures with mystery, he rows to
the piazza, orders his bark to wait, meets his goddess in the crowd, and
vanishes from all beholders. Surely, Venice is the city in the universe
best calculated for giving scope to the observations of a devil upon two
sticks. What a variety of lurking-places would one stroke of his crutch
uncover!
Whilst the higher ranks were solacing themselves in their casinos, the
rabble were gathered in knots round the strollers and mountebanks,
singing and scaramouching in the middle of the square. I observed a
great number of Orientals amongst the crowd, and heard Turkish and Arabic
muttering in every corner. There the Sclavonian dialect predominated;
there some Grecian jargon, almost unintelligible. Had St. Mark’s church
been the wondrous tower, and its piazza the chief square, of the city of
Babylon, there could scarcely have been a greater confusion of languages.
The novelty of the scene afforded me no small share of amusement, and I
wandered about from group to group, and from one strange exotic to
another, asking and being asked innumerable ridiculous questions, and
settling the politics of London and Constantinople, almost in the same
breath. This instant, I found myself in a circle of grave Armenian
priests and jewellers; the next amongst Greeks and Dalmatians, who
accosted me with the smoothest compliments, and gave proof that their
reputation for pliability and address was not ill-founded.
I was entering into a grand harum-scarum discourse with some Russian
Counts or Princes, or whatever you please, just landed with dwarfs, and
footmen, and governors, and staring, like me, about them, when Mad. de R.
arrived, to whom I had the happiness of being recommended. She very
obligingly presented me to some of the most distinguished of the Venetian
families at their great casino, which looks into the piazza, and consists
of five or six rooms, fitted up in a gay flimsy taste, neither rich nor
elegant, where were a great many lights, and a great many ladies
negligently dressed, their hair falling very freely about them, and
innumerable adventures written in their eyes. The gentlemen were lolling
upon the sofas or lounging about the apartments.
The whole assembly seemed upon the verge of gaping, till coffee was
carried round. This magic beverage diffused a temporary animation; and,
for a moment or two, conversation moved on with a degree of pleasing
extravagance; but the flash was soon dissipated, and nothing remained
save cards and stupidity.
In the intervals of shuffling and dealing, some talked over the affairs
of the grand council with less reserve than I expected; and two or three
of them asked some feeble questions about the late tumults in London: as
much, however, through indolence and forgetfulness, I should conjecture,
as from any political motive, for I don’t believe all those wise stories,
which some travellers have propagated, of Venetian subtlety and profound
silence. They might have reigned during the dark periods of the
republic, but at this moment the veil is rent in fifty places; and
without any wonderful penetration, the debates of the senate are
discoverable. There doubtless was a time when, society being greatly
divided, and little communication subsisting among the nobles, secrets
were invariably kept; but since the establishment of casinos, which the
ladies rule, where chit-chat and tittle-tattle are for ever going
forwards, who can preserve a rigorous taciturnity upon any subject in the
universe? It was one o’clock before all the company were assembled, and
I left them at three, still dreaming over their coffee and card-tables.
Trieze is their favourite game: _uno_, _due_, _tre_, _quatro_, _cinque_,
_fante_, _cavallo_ are eternally repeated; the apartments echoed no other
sound.
No lively people could endure such monotony; yet I have been told the
Venetians are remarkably spirited, and so eager in the pursuit of
amusement as hardly to allow themselves any sleep. Some, for instance,
after declaiming in the Senate, walking an hour in the square, and
fidgeting about from one casino to another till morning dawns, will get
into a gondola, row across the Lagunes, take the post to Mestre or
Fusina, and jumble over craggy pavements to Treviso, breakfast in haste,
and rattle back again as if the devil were charioteer: by eleven the
party is restored to Venice, resumes robe and periwig, and goes to
council.
This may be very true, and yet I will never cite the Venetians as
examples of vivacity. Their nerves, unstrung by disease and the
consequences of early debaucheries, impede all lively flow of spirits in
its course, and permit at best but a few moments of a false and feverish
activity. The approaches of rest, forced back by an immoderate use of
coffee, render them, too, weak and listless, and the facility of being
wafted from place to place in a gondola, adds not a little to their
indolence. In short, I can scarcely regard their Eastern neighbours in a
more lazy light; and am apt to imagine that instead of slumbering less
than other people, they pass their lives in one perpetual doze.
_August_ 4_th_.—The heats were so excessive in the night, that I thought
myself several times on the point of suffocation, tossed about like a
wounded fish, and dreamt of the devil and Senegal. Towards sunrise, a
faint breeze restored me to life and reason. I slumbered till late in
the day, and the moment I was fairly awake, ordered my gondolier to row
out to the main ocean, that I might plunge into its waves, and hear and
see nothing but waters around me.
We shot off, wound amongst a number of sheds, shops, churches, casinos,
and palaces, growing immediately out of the canals, without any apparent
foundation. No quay, no terrace, not even a slab is to be seen before
the doors; one step brings you from the hall into the bark, and the
vestibules of the stateliest structures lie open to the waters, and level
with them. I observed several, as I glided along, supported by rows of
well-proportioned pillars, adorned with terms and vases, beyond which the
eye generally discovers a grand court, and sometimes a garden.
In about half an hour, we had left the thickest cluster of isles behind,
and, coasting the Place of St. Mark opposite to San Giorgio Maggiore,
whose elegant frontispiece was painted on the calm waters, launched into
the blue expanse of sea, from which rise the Chartreuse and two or three
other woody islands. I hailed the spot where I had passed such a happy
visionary evening, and nodded to my friends the pines.
A few minutes more brought me to a dreary, sun-burnt shore, stalked over
by a few Sclavonian soldiers, who inhabit a castle hard by, go regularly
to an ugly unfinished church, and from thence, it is to be hoped, to
paradise; as the air of their barracks is abominable, and kills them like
blasted sheep.
Forlorn as this island appeared to me, I was told it was the scene of the
Doge’s pageantry at the feast of the Ascension; and the very spot to
which he sails in the _Bucentaur_, previously to wedding the sea. You
have heard enough, and if ever you looked into a show-box, seen full
sufficient of this gaudy spectacle, without my enlarging upon the topic.
I shall only say, that I was obliged to pursue, partly, the same road as
the nuptial procession, in order to reach the beach, and was broiled and
dazzled accordingly.
At last, after traversing some desert hillocks, all of a hop with toads
and locusts (amongst which English heretics have the honour of being
interred), I passed under an arch, and suddenly the boundless plains of
ocean opened to my view. I ran to the smooth sands, extending on both
sides out of sight, cast off my clothes, and dashed into the waves, which
were coursing one another with a gentle motion, and breaking lightly on
the shores. The tide rolled over me as I lay floating about, buoyed up
by the water, and carried me wheresoever it listed. It might have borne
me far out into the main, and exposed me to a thousand perils, before I
had been aware, so totally was I abandoned to the illusion of the moment.
My ears were filled with murmuring undecided sounds; my limbs, stretched
languidly on the surge, rose or sunk just as it swelled or subsided. In
this passive, senseless state I remained, till the sun cast a less
intolerable light, and the fishing vessels, lying out in the bay at a
great distance, spread their sails and were coming home.
Hastening back over the desert of locusts, I threw myself into the
gondola; and, no wind or wave opposing, was soon wafted across to those
venerable columns, so conspicuous in the Place of St. Mark. Directing my
course immediately to the ducal palace, I entered the grand court,
ascending the Giant’s stairs, and examined at my leisure its bas-reliefs.
Then, taking the first guide that presented himself, I was shown along
several cloisters and corridors, sustained by innumerable pillars, into
the state apartments, which Tintoret and Paolo Veronese have covered with
the triumphs of their country.
A swarm of lawyers filled the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, and one of the
first advocates in the republic was pleading with all his might, before a
solemn row of senators. The eyes and ears of the assembly seemed equally
affected. Clouds of powder and volleys of execrations issuing every
instant from the disputants, I got out of their way; and was led from
hall to hall, and from picture to picture, with exemplary resignation.
To be sure, I was heartily tired, but behaved with decency, having never
once expressed how much I wished the chefs-d’œuvre I had been
contemplating, less smoky and numerous.
At last, I reached once more the colonnades at the entrance, and caught
the sea-breeze in the open porticos which front San Giorgio Maggiore.
The walls are covered in most places with grim visages sculptured in
marble, whose mouths gape for accusations, and swallow every lie that
malice and revenge can dictate. I wished for a few ears of the same
kind, dispersed about the Doge’s residence, to which one might apply
one’s own, and catch some account of the mysteries within; some little
dialogue between the Three Inquisitors, or debate in the Council of Ten.
This is the tribunal which holds the wealthy nobility in continual awe;
before which they appear with trembling and terror: and whose summons
they dare not disobey. Sometimes, by way of clemency, it condemns its
victims to perpetual imprisonment in close, stifling cells, between the
leads and beams of the palace; or, unwilling to spill the blood of a
fellow-citizen, generously sinks them into dungeons, deep under the
canals which wash its foundations; so that, above and below, its majesty
is contaminated by the abodes of punishment. What other sovereign could
endure the idea of having his immediate residence polluted with tears? or
revel in his halls, conscious that many of his species were consuming
their hours in lamentations above his head, and that but a few beams
separated him from the scene of their tortures? How ever gaily disposed,
could one dance with pleasure on a pavement, beneath which lie damp and
gloomy caverns, whose inhabitants waste away by painful degrees, and feel
themselves whole years a-dying? Impressed by these terrible ideas, I
could not regard the palace without horror, and wished for the strength
of a thousand antediluvians, to level it with the sea, lay open the
secret recesses of punishment, and admit free gales and sunshine into
every den.
When I had thus vented my indignation, I repaired to the statue of
Neptune and invoked it to second my enterprise. Once upon a time no
deity had a freer hand at razing cities. His execution was renowned
throughout all antiquity, and the proudest monarchs deprecated the wrath
of ΚΡΕΙΩΝ ΕΝΟΣΙΧΘΩΝ. But, like the other mighty ones of ancient days,
his reign is past and his trident disregarded. Formerly any wild spirit
found favour in the eyes of fortune, and was led along the career of
glory to the deliverance of captives and the extirpation of monsters;
but, in our degenerate times, this easy road to fame is no longer open,
and the means of producing such signal events perplexed and difficult.
Abandoning, therefore, the sad tenants of the Piombi to their fate, I
left the courts, and stepping into my bark, was rowed down a canal over
which the lofty walls of the palace cast a tremendous shade. Beneath
these fatal waters the dungeons I have also been speaking of are
situated. There the wretches lie marking the sound of the oars, and
counting the free passage of every gondola. Above, a marble bridge, of
bold majestic architecture, joins the highest part of the prisons to the
secret galleries of the palace; from whence criminals are conducted over
the arch to a cruel and mysterious death. I shuddered whilst passing
below; and believe it is not without cause, this structure is named PONTE
DEl SOSPIRI. Horrors and dismal prospects haunted my fancy upon my
return. I could not dine in peace, so strongly was my imagination
affected; but snatching my pencil, I drew chasms and subterraneous
hollows, the domain of fear and torture, with chains, racks, wheels, and
dreadful engines, in the style of Piranesi. About sunset I went and
refreshed myself with the cool air and cheerful scenery of the Fondamenti
nuovi, a vast quay or terrace of white marble, which commands the whole
series of isles, from San Michele’s to Torcello,
“That rise and glitter o’er the ambient tide.”
Nothing can be more picturesque than the groups of towers and cupolas
which they present, mixed with flat roofs and low buildings, and now and
then a pine or cypress. Afar off, a little woody isle, called Il
Deserto, swells from the ocean and diversifies its expanse.
When I had spent a delightful half-hour in viewing the distant isles, M.
de. B. accompanied me to the Mendicanti, one of the four conservatorios,
which give the best musical education conceivable to near one hundred
young women. You may imagine how admirably those of the Mendicanti in
particular are taught, since their establishment is under Bertoni’s
direction, who breathes around him the very soul of grace and harmony.
The chapel in which we sat to hear the oratorio was dark and solemn; a
screen of lofty pillars, formed of black marble and highly polished,
excluded the glow of the western sky, and reflected the lamps which burn
perpetually before the altar. Every tribune was thronged with people,
whose profound silence showed them worthy auditors of Bertoni’s
compositions. Here were no cackling old women, or groaning Methodists,
such as infest our English churches, and scare one’s ears with hoarse
coughs accompanied by the naso obligato. All were still and attentive,
imbibing the plaintive notes of the voices with eagerness; and scarce a
countenance but seemed deeply affected with David’s sorrows, the subject
of the performance. I sat retired in a solitary tribune, and felt them
as my own. Night came on before the last chorus was sung, and I still
seem to hear its sacred melody.
_August_ 18_th_.—It rains; the air is refreshed and I have courage to
resume my pen, which the sultry weather had forced to lie dormant so
long. I like this odd town of Venice, and find every day some new
amusement in rambling about its innumerable canals and alleys. Sometimes
I go and pry about the great church of Saint Mark, and examine the
variety of marbles and mazes of delicate sculpture with which it is
covered. The cupola, glittering with gold, mosaic, and paintings of half
the wonders in the Apocalypse, never fails transporting me to the period
of the Eastern empire. I think myself in Constantinople, and expect
Michael Paleologus with all his train. One circumstance alone prevents
my observing half the treasures of the place, and holds down my fancy,
just springing into the air: I mean the vile stench which exhales from
every recess and corner of the edifice, and which all the altars cannot
subdue.
When oppressed by this noxious atmosphere, I run up the Campanile in the
piazza, and seating myself amongst the pillars of the gallery, breathe
the fresh gales which blow from the Adriatic; survey at my leisure all
Venice beneath me, with its azure sea, white sails, and long tracts of
islands shining in the sun. Having thus laid in a provision of wholesome
breezes, I brave the vapours of the canals, and venture into the most
curious and murky quarters of the city, in search of Turks and Infidels,
that I may ask as many questions as I please about Damascus and Suristan,
those happy countries which nature has covered with roses.
Asiatics find Venice very much to their liking, and all those I conversed
with allowed its customs and style of living had a good deal of
conformity to their own. The eternal lounging in coffee-houses and
sipping of sorbets, agrees perfectly well with the inhabitants of the
Ottoman empire, who stalk about here in their proper dresses, and smoke
their own exotic pipes, without being stared and wondered at, as in most
other European capitals. Some few of these Orientals are communicative
and enlightened; but, generally speaking, they know nothing beyond the
rule of three, and the commonest transactions of mercantile affairs.
The Greeks are by far a more lively generation, still retaining their
propensity to works of genius and imagination. Metastasio has been
lately translated into their modern jargon, and some obliging papa or
other has had the patience to put the long-winded romance of Clelia into
a Grecian dress. I saw two or three of these volumes exposed on a stall,
under the grand arcades of the public library, as I went one day to
admire the antiques in its vestibules.
Whilst I was intent upon my occupation, a little door, I never should
have suspected, flew open, and out popped Monsieur de V., from a place
where nothing, I believe, but broomsticks and certain other utensils were
ever before deposited. This gentleman, the most active investigator of
Homer since the days of the good bishop of Thessalonica, bespatters you
with more learning in a minute than others communicate in half a year;
quotes Arabic, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, etc., with a formidable fluency;
and drove me from one end of the room to the other with all the thunder
of erudition. Syllables fell thicker than hail, and in an instant I
found myself so weighed down and covered, that I prayed, for mercy’s
sake, to be introduced, by way of respite, to a Laplander whom he leads
about as a curiosity; a poor, harmless, good sort of a soul, calm and
indifferent, who has acquired the words of several Oriental languages to
perfection: ideas he has, in none.
We went together to view a collection of medals in one of the Gradanigo
palaces, and two or three inestimable volumes, filled with paintings that
represent the dress of the ancient Venetians; so that I had an
opportunity of observing to perfection all the Lapland nothingness of my
companion. What a perfect void! Cold and silent as the polar regions,
not one passion ever throbbed in his bosom; not one bright ray of fancy
ever glittered in his mind; without love or anger, pleasure or pain, his
days fleet smoothly along: all things considered, I must confess I envied
such comfortable apathy.
After having passed a peaceful hour in dreaming over the medals and
rarities, M. de V. was for conducting me to the Armenian convent, but I
begged to be excused, and went to S. Giovanni e Paolo’s, a church ever
celebrated in the annals of painting, since it contains that masterpiece
of Titian, “The Martyrdom of St. Peter.” It being a festival, the huge
Gothic pillars were covered with red damask, and the shrines of saints
and worthies glimmered with tapers. The dim chapels on each side the
nave received a feeble light, and discovered the tombs of ancient Doges,
and the equestrian statues of many a doughty General. I admired them
all, but liked nothing so much as a snug bas-relief I found out in a
corner, which represents St. Mark and some other good souls a-prosing,
whilst his lion and the old serpent squabble and scratch in the
foreground of the sculpture, like cat and dog by the fireside. After
dinner, when the shadows of domes and palaces began lengthening across
the waves, I rowed out
“On the clear hyaline, the glassy sea,”
to observe the last sunbeams fade on the tufted gardens of the Giudecca,
and to contemplate the distant Euganean hills, once the happiest region
of Italy; where wandering nations enjoyed the simplicity of a pastoral
life, long before the arrival of Antenor. In those ancient times, deep
forests and extensive pastures covered the shores {170a} of the Adriatic,
and innumerable flocks hung on the brow of the mountains. This golden
period ended upon the incursion of the Trojans and Heneti; who, led by
Antenor, drove away the unfortunate savages, and possessed themselves of
their habitations. {170b} The form of the hillocks is varied and
picturesque, and the sun, sinking behind them, suffuses their summits
with tints of the brightest orange. Scarce one evening have I failed to
remark the changeful scenery of the clouds, and to fill my mind with
recollections of primeval days and happier ages. Night generally
surprises me in the midst of my reveries; I return, lulled in my gondola
by the murmur of waters, pass about an hour with M. de R., whose
imagination and sensibility almost equal your own; then, retire to sleep,
and dream of the Euganeans.